


i will make you pancakes

by Octeaviea



Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 10:10:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12981804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Octeaviea/pseuds/Octeaviea
Summary: Tomas (tries) to make breakfast for Marcus and the Kim kids.





	i will make you pancakes

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline-wise this is set after the exorcism on Andy has started, but before the kids are moved out of the house. Also, this was 100% born out of my burning head canon that Tomas is great with children.

On the third day, Marcus leaves Andy’s stinking, dark, damp bedroom to wake Tomas up to take his own exorcism shift, but the bedroom they share is empty. A barb of panic lances through Marcus, sharp and hot and cutting. A half thousand scenarios race through his head. _Tomas slamming his head against a wall somewhere, eyes white as snow. Tomas bleeding out in the woods, calling Marcus’ name, too quiet for him to hear. Tomas kidnapped by some Vatican lackey, on his way to Rome right now, Tomas with a bullet in his head, Tomas just…gone, bags packed, mind changed, tickets to Chicago in his stupid messenger bag._

 

He hears a cry from downstairs and takes the steps two at a time, barreling around the corner and down the steps. He reaches the doorway, heart in his throat, and then stops.

 

Tomas’ is standing in the middle of the kitchen, his black shirt covered so thoroughly in flour he looks like a ghost, holding a pan containing the single biggest pancake Marcus has ever seen.

 

Harper pulls him down to sit beside her.

“Father Tomas is going to break a _record_.”

“Is he?”

“Biggest pancake.” Verity leans across the table to snag the syrup before her brothers can add it to their sprinkles and chocolate chips and create a monopoly on the sweet pancake toppings.

“Does Father Tomas _know_ the record for biggest pancake?”

“Well, no, but it can’t be bigger than this one.”

“Does father Tomas know how to make pancakes?”

“I think so, he said-“

But Marcus never learns what he had said, because just then Tomas tries to flip the pancake which goes flying across the kitchen only to land squarely on Verity’s head. The kitchen waits with bated breath as Verity peels a brick of wheat flour and eggs and milk from her hair. Verity stands up quickly, sly grin on her face, menacingly balling up the doughy pancake in her hand. She pitches it at Rose, who catches it and smears the half-cooked batter down the back of Shelby’s shirt, who in turn grabs a bowl of whip cream and upends onto Tomas’ head. But before Tomas, who is now completely obscured by the contents of the Kim’s pantry can retaliate, the whole room comes alive with a terrible siren screeching.

 

The kids drop to the floor with their hands over their ears. Rose is trying to force the windows open shouting “Smoke Alarm! Smoke Alarm!”As though that wasn’t already very obvious.

Verity is trying to explain to Tomas, through very confusing sign language that the alarm is above the fridge, and Harper and Caleb have absconded with the whip cream bowl.

 

Marcus watches them, equal parts fondness and grief. They could be a happy suburban family making a disastrous Sunday breakfast. In another world, this could be the worst thing to have happened to them all week.

 

Tomas turns around with panic and a not insignificant amount of mirth in his brown eyes, holding the two halves of the now completely broken, but still screeching detector.

“Would you?”

He steps forward and takes the broken alarm between his hands. Tomas, in his panic has severed some pretty serious wires, and based on Marcus’ non-existent technical skill he doesn’t not think the alarm is salvageable for anything other than an earsplitting paperweight.

Marcus knows that there are more pressing situations in the house than this. That Andy has been left alone upstairs and maybe he only has a few days to live and the Vatican is after them and Tomas’ eternal soul is in danger and a thousand things could go wrong from here to sunset.

But this. This is something he can fix. So he stands on the porch and hurls the two halves of the wrecked detector out away from the house, as far as he can throw, until the screeching is a barley audible tinny chime in the distance. It the padded, almost eerie silence that follows he turns back to the kitchen.

“Lets eat.”

 

The food is surprisingly good considering the method in which is was created, and the fridge is stocked with more than enough whip cream to make up for what Tomas truly did burn beyond recognition, even with Caleb and Harper's theft taken into consideration. Harper serves him a pancake shaped like what Tomas insists is a Hippo, and over that, another, shaped like a heart.

“You are a terrible artist.” Marcus says to Tomas.

Tomas drops into the seat next to him and sprays a mound of whip cream over his plate.

“There. It’s a cloud.”

“It’ll take weeks to get the strawberry sauce off the ceiling.” Says Rose, with the optimistic voice of a woman who believes she’s going to be alive to have foot the cleaning bill.

 

Marcus flicks a glob at whip cream across the table at Harper and it catches her between the eyes, and the little girl that up until a week ago had had no hope of a life beyond the horrible one she was living, laughs, bright and clean and honest.  And Marcus did not need to see Gods face or hear His voice to make that happen.

 

This is not what Marcus wants. It’s not even a sliver of what Marcus wants after forty-one years of not being allowed to want anything at all. But in a softly smoking kitchen, with Tomas beside him and a questionably edible pile of pancakes in front of him, it is enough.    

**Author's Note:**

> pls come scream to me about this terrible show on tumblr @forceghostmargo


End file.
